


Scars

by mythomagicallydelicious



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Post-Episode: e067-069 Story and Song Parts 1-3, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:44:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: From one old man to another, offering a (scarred) hand up.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a picture on tumblr and it inspired me to write a flash-fic of what I felt when I saw it. Thank you for the cool artwork, @najsigt
> 
> the post: http://najsigt.tumblr.com/post/180720852984/30-days-of-johnchurch-day-2-soft-touches-this

The cracks of color threaded through John’s skin has faded, but the scars are still there. Jagged lines where vibrant reds, blues, yellows, and greens burst from him, tearing him apart, now appeared like the only patchwork sewing keeping him together.

His face was recognizable, but only just. One scar threatened to go through one eye, but was stopped and fractured just before.

He is weak, and coughing, and feeling like a million eyes are watching him, like a million mouths are laughing silently, like a million hands have tossed him to and fro and dashed him against the beach to die.

When Merle sees him, he sees a man who needs help.

He sees an old friend with about as many scars as he’s got, now.

He sees John. Frail like he never was for a century. Hurting outwardly like he’d kept inside for a century.

The anger and rage that had fueled his desperate attempt at transcending nihilism and led a movement that had destroyed countless planes is gone.

All that is left is regrets and a man on his knees, begging without words, desperate for peace.

And Merle? Well he’s not one much for regrets. He’s not sure he always knows what peace is, either. But he knows a thing or two about how to help a friend up and dust them off.

So he does, pulling John up by one hand, standing beside him. He takes him to a house on the edge of the beach front, empty save some pictures and a century’s worth of junk. Maybe a plant or two.

He sits him down and traces the scars with his soul-wood arm. He jokes that he only sees half as well, with one eye missing now. John doesn’t smile, yet.

But he does say Thank you. And he does warm his hands by the fire. And he does lean against Merle until he falls asleep to the sound of the dwarf telling stories about waking up to a new sky every year, and how despite living here for 12 years, despite losing his mind and his memories and getting them all back, he’s never gotten used to the lack of sunlight.

The next day Merle will make a terribly burnt breakfast, and John will finally crack a smile, will return a sarcastic turn of phrase.

But for the night, they are two scarred men by the fire, leaning into their past, finding a connection that will last.


End file.
